Kaira Loving

Kaira Loving’s poetry is the spawn of many years on the road. Her inspiration is primarily drawn from a deep connection to the natural world through her time working in gardens.  She hopes her words will evoke a profound appreciation for the planet, but also will help to bring others back to their own raw and honest emotions.  If nothing else, she plans to keep writing just for her own spirit’s sake and an unquenchable craving for creative, cathartic experiences.

A sample of:

whose hands are these?

by Kaira Loving

(This poems format has been modified due to the limitations of the online medium. For the properly formatted version, please purchase the digital or in print version of the  magazine) 

I didn’t put them there




whose strange hands are these?


whose ravage hands?  


forgetting to ask permission


like a rabid animal, 

I claw

I bite 


pinned down beneath a weight 

I didn't recognize 

and didn't want to become familiar with


my left leg becoming quite numb

his shirt was still on

I always appreciated efficiency


whose hands are these? 

callused in the crevice 

where the palm meets the fingers

like a good ol’ boy 

who spent his day shovel in hand 

and spent his pocket change

on the passing ice cream truck

with a mother 

who'd be concerned about

his whereabouts at this hour 

and with his hand over my mouth


with a hand over my mouth 

he couldn't hear me mumble

things I shouldn’t have to mumble


room was as bland as his blank stare

eyes I didn't try to look into

though once, with a quick glance, 

I saw 


 lurking in their brown shallowness


I didn't look again. 

To read the rest of Whose hands are these and other great poems pick up the first issue of crooked Teeth: Summer in the City